Redemption Is a Funny Thing
by Tiger-Cub684
Summary: Hamlet is dead and in Pergatory. But he can't quiet get into Heaven. His only hope is if he reconciles with all his old...friends. But will they accept his apology or leave him stranded forever?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Hamlet is the wonderful creation of Shakespeare, or whoever he got him from. But Krys is mine._

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Redemption Is A Funny Thing 

Chapter 1

A shadowy flash, a whisper of noise; Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, floated through the great unknown. All around him was the endless sea of smoke, forever swirling around, twirling this way that that. It was enough to make a prince nauseous. After a while, Hamlet came to realise that he too was spinning. And he felt very odd. It was a peculiar feeling of disembodiment. Looking at the twirling smoke, he began to feel just like it; a stream of gas gently floating and spinning in the air. But was there air? He couldn't tell. He certainly couldn't feel any wind that might be blowing the smoke to behave as it was. But surely there must be air, for if there was no air, what would the smoke be floating in? Hamlet thought about this for a while. Thinking was hard. All the smoke was like a thick, muzzy mist, which made concentration hard to achieve, so he spent some time, grasping at something he couldn't quite reach, finding it harder and harder to connect thoughts. So caught up in this was he, that he didn't notice his surroundings begin to change.

It was, at first, just a spot of white, remaining constant among the smoke. It didn't stick to any particular stream or follow any unseen wind current; it just stayed in the one spot. Eventually, it became clearer, as if the smoke was trying to move out the way. It became more like a hole in the mist, until eventually, it was a pure beam of clarity. Hamlet looked up and saw it, and instantly, the mist in his mind was lifted. As he stared into the light, the smoke around him seemed to darken. He focused all he could on the light, and watched as it became larger, and larger, and larger until, finally, it consumed him.

When Hamlet woke up, the first thing he noticed was the sharp pain side. A flash of memories and he remembered why. He winced, but the pain began to subside, until, it was gone. His eyes flickered open to see a bizarre landscape; the vertical ground was grey, stony and barren, while the sky was shades of purple. He thought it strange that the ground would be going vertical like a wall, before realising, he was lying on his stomach.

Hamlet got to his knees. He noticed the grey desert to be littered with rock formations here and there, as well as the occasional dark-green shrub. The whole place shouted of Neutral. And he had absolutely no idea where he was.

"Where on earth am I?" he asked, speaking for the first time. He frowned. His voice was different.

"Heeelllllloooo" Hmm, he _was_ different. Not _too_ different. But he definitely sounded…younger.

A gleam of light caught his eye. He looked down to find a small mirror on the ground next to him. "What in the…?" he picked it up and looked at his reflection.

Hamlet was amazed. The face looking back was different to he was used to, ten years younger at least. And there were no bags under his eyes, and the winkle in his forehead was gone. It was if he had died at the age of twenty. Was that what he had done? Died? He supposed so. Why else would he be in a strange place unlike anyone had ever heard of? And he definitely remembered having his thirtieth birthday.

So, he was dead, in a strange place and ten years younger. What next? Talking animals?

"Good guess." said a voice from the ground. Hamlet looked down. A sleek red fox was sitting gracefully in front of him. Hamlet's jaw dropped.

"No need to stare. Humans can be so strange." the fox muttered.

"Wh-"

"Where are you? Well, buddy, you're dead. So, you're in what's known as '_Purgatory'_. Interesting place, isn't it?" The Fox interrupted.

"Who –"

"Who am I? My name is Klemens, but you can call me Krys."

"Wh –"

"What am I? Why, I'm a fox; are you blind or something?"

"Can you please stop interrupting? It's very irritating." Hamlet shouted before the fox could interrupt any further.

"Sorry. It's just that I can read your mind, so I find it easier to answer you sooner than to have to wait for you to actually voice your question. It saves time."

Hamlet groaned in frustration. _Great, I'm stuck in a technicolour wasteland with an annoying talking fox. I must be in hell_, he thought.

"No need to be insulting." Krys replied.

Hamlet sighed and shot a glare at Krys.

"Fine, just ask your questions. I promise not to interrupt." Krys replied, twitching his tail.

"Ok, so, I am dead, this is Purgatory, and you're a talking fox. Have I got is right so far?" Hamlet asked.

"I'm not really a talking fox. Well, I am, but, what I mean is, I used to be a normal, living, non-talking fox, but you see, there is no language barrier here in the afterlife, so you will find that you will be able to talk with all kinds of creatures; cats, dogs, birds, Frenchmen, everything. But other than that, yeah, you've got it all."

"So, what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said. What do we do now? Am I supposed to just sit here for all eternity? If so, it's a rather disappointing afterlife."

"Sit here? Of course you don't have to, but you can if you want. But now, I'm supposed to take you too see Saint John, the bookkeeper of the afterlife."

"Saint John? I thought it was Saint Peter who was bookkeeper of Heaven." Hamlet replied.

"He is, but you're not in Heaven yet. It's Saint John who will decide if and when you get to move on to Peter." Krys advised him wisely.

"…OK, so, then, fox, where will we find him?" Hamlet asked.

"Just follow me."

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**_A/n: Well, it's my first crack at a Shakespeare fic. I didn't even know he had a catagory until i got interested in Hamlet and decided to check. But now i know, and hopefully this story will recieve a positive reception. _**

**_It's a pretty original concept (as far as i know at least) and i hope you like it. _**

**_Well, thats all for now. Please review, because there is not better gift you can give than your kind words/comments/criticism._**

**_Ciao for now, and have an awesome day!_**

**_Tiger-Cub684_**


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Chapter 2, wherein Hamlet gets a nasty shock_**

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Chapter 2 

Hamlet stood in line, right between a man with an axe in his head and woman who was having trouble standing up straight.

"What happened to you?" he asked her.

"hic alcohol poisoning, hic so they hic tell me hic" she replied. The brown lark on her shoulder nodded. "Found her in a ditch in the Russian countryside." he chirped.

"You don't say," Krys replied, "I found mine stabbed with a poisoned sword in the middle of a throne-room in Denmark. Amazing what these humans get up to, eh?"

Hamlet rolled his eyes. The polecat sitting at the axe-mans' feet yawned. "You think that's strange? This guy was whacked by his daughter. Something about inheritance money and a guy named Fyeron."

Krys whistled in agreement. "That sure is strange."

"Did you just whistle?" Hamlet asked the fox.

Krys looked up at the former prince "Yeah. You have no idea how much I've always wanted to do that. Being dead _does_ have its perks."

"Maybe for you." Hamlet mumbled.

The line suddenly jerked forward one position.

"Yay, we're one step closer to St John." Krys said eagerly.

"Seriously, if you keep saying that every time we more forward, I'm going to strangle you." Hamlet sighed. Was there no shutting up this infernal animal?

"Oh yeah? Well the joke's on you. I'm _already_ dead. You can't strangle me. So there ngh!" the fox poked his tongue out like a child.

Hamlet sighed deeply again. It was a growing trend. "So, why are all these animals here, anyway? Why does it seem like everyone's got one?"

"Oh, that's easy. You see, for humans to move on from purgatory, they've usually got to do something to make up for whatever wrongs they did in life. But for animals, all we have to do is make sure our assigned human does whatever he's supposed to do, and if he moves on, so do we. So whatever St John tells you to do, you'd better do it. Otherwise I'll be right here with you for the rest of eternity."

"You can't be serious." Hamlet replied.

"I'm deadly serious…haha, deadly. Get it? cos we're dead!"

The line moved forward again. Hamlet could faintly see a figure sitting at a table in the distance. They were still quite a few people away, but at least the end was in sight.

Then the first part of what Krys had said hit him. '_Make up for whatever wrongs'_. Oh _zounds_, he thought. What am I going to have to do? There are _so_ _many_ wrongs…and that's just in the past few years. Hamlet groaned. He was never going to get out of this deary place.

"Hey, you'd better do what it takes, mister. I don't want to be stuck here either." Krys replied, having read Hamlet's thoughts.

* * *

They were finally almost there. Only one person was ahead of them. Axe-man stood, shoulders slumped, as St John's kindly voice gave him instructions.

"…and if you can do all that, then you will be granted entrance into Heaven. God Bless…Next!"

The Axe-man and polecat walked away silently and Hamlet and Krys stepped up to the desk.

St John was a very inconspicuous looking man. He was bearded, slightly pot-bellied, mostly bold and had square glasses poised on the edge on his crooked nose. If it weren't for the glowing halo and white robes, he would be someone you might expect in a library. He was currently browsing through a large filing cabinet on his right.

"Ah, here we are, Hamlet, Former Prince of Denmark. Died age 30 by poisoned sword wound. Hmm," St John paused, "This is quite an extensive list you've got here, ma' boy."

Hamlet looked at his feet. "Well, it wasn't _all_ my fault."

"Perhaps not. But this is quite an unusual case." St John mused.

"So, where's he headed? The pearly gates or the land of burning flames?" Krys asked, more cheerfully than Hamlet would've liked.

"Well, my young furry friend, that's the problem. At this point, he could go either way." St John replied.

"What do you mean?" Hamlet asked, confused.

"Well, you were a very good person once, but then you turned bad. But most of the bad deeds were with initial good intentions. _But_ the real problem here is the fact that your father came back to you and ordered you to do many of these things."

"What are you trying to say? My father is responsible for this?"

"Well, yes. Sprits such as yourself aren't permitted to travel back to the realm of the living. But he found a way and did. Your father had no right to ask you to avenge his death, not matter how ghastly. But many of your later actions are then justified in a way, as you believed you were rightly fulfilling your fathers' wishes, and therein lays the problem. Your bad deeds stop you from entering Heaven, but the fact that your actions were on behalf someone else, stop you from being doomed to Hell for all eternity."

"…so, what does that mean? I have to just stay here forever?"

"No, of course not. No soul's stay in purgatory is permanent. They all have to move on eventually. It just means that you will have to work for your place in the afterlife."

Hamlet groaned. He should've expected just as much, but still, why did everything bad have to happen to him?

"What do I have to do?" he asked.

"Well, you're in luck. I have just the task for you. If you complete it, you will gain entry into Heaven. But if you cannot, you will be doomed to Hell. So listen closely, this is important," St John took a deep breath and smiled, "I want you to find all the people you have wronged and apologise. If they all forgive you, eternal salvation is yours."

"…what? All of them?" Hamlet scratched his head desperately, trying to remember as many people as he could that would likely fall into the "People I Have Wronged" category.

"And because I'm a kind man, I shall supply you with a list of all the people." St John replied, handing him a small scroll.

Hamlet unfurled it to find a long list of names; his mother, uncle, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Polonius, Laertes, some people from his days at university, and Ophelia. His heart skipped a beat when he read her name. At the back of his mind, he had known that he would have to face her again. But he knew she would never forgive him.

He looked at St John, pleading "Is this the only way?"

"'fraid so. Unless you want to suffer for all eternity." replied St John, rasing an eyebrow questiongly.

"What? No, no, of course I want to go to Heaven." Hamlet said quickly.

"Then this is the only way."

Hamlet sighed in defeat. This was not going to be easy.

"Don't worry; I'm sure you can do it. If you have any questions, just ask your animal guide. All the people on that list are still in purgatory and you shouldn't have too much trouble finding them all. There aren't many places to go here, after all. Do you have any questions before you go?"

"Ah…how long do I have to do all this?"

"Well, since time doesn't really exist here, as long as you need, or until you give up. Which ever comes first, really. Good luck young Hamlet, and God Bless. NEXT!"

Hamlet and Krys moved on, walking without any real direction.

"So, what's the deal with this Ophelia? Is she some ex-girlfriend or something?" asked the fox,

Hamlet sighed. "Well, in a way, yes. It's complicated."

"What did you do to her?"

"I kind of…indirectly…drove her insane and then she killed herself." he looked away.

"Oh," replied Krys, "That's too bad. She's not gonna forgive you easily."

"She probably won't forgive me at all." he replied sadly.

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**Wow, that took me a while. Well, second chapter's done. A big thanks to everyone who reviewed. You guys are awesome!**

**About Hamlet's age? well, there is a bit of debate here. The gravedigger's speech makes it seem that Hamlet must be 30, but he certinally acts much younger (i'd probably say early twenties, or maybe even younger). Someone suggested that the gravedgger added that in later, in the first performance, to justify having a 30-yr-old actor playing the character. And the folio apparently makes no real refence to his age. For argument sake, i'm going to stick with him dying at 30, but seeing as he's dead now, and has taken on the appearance of him ten years previous to that, it really doesn't matter. **

**All reviews are welcomed and appreciated. I'd love to hear what you think about my fic. :D**

**well, until next time, have a nice day! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3 - Wherein Laertes has a secret._**

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Chapter 3

Krys trotted along carelessly, humming tunelessly, because he was tone-deaf, as he led his charge into the barren wilderness.

Hamlet walked on beside the fox, lost in his thoughts.

"…_to find all the people you have wronged and apologise. If they all forgive you, eternal salvation is yours'_

'_Is this the only way?_

''_fraid so. Unless you want to suffer for all eternity_"

Suffer for all eternity. It wasn't really negotiable. If he couldn't get everyone on his list to forgive him, than he would suffer for all eternity. It didn't exactly sound pleasant. And he wasn't really a fan of suffering; it tended to be…painful.

"Trust me, Princey, Hell is _much more_ than painful" Krys said, interrupting his thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's not just physical pain, it's mental and emotional pain too. And it never ends."

"Wouldn't you get used to it eventually or something?"

"No, not in Hell. It's just as painful as it was when it started as it is for the entire duration…which is all eternity."

"…that's really bad."

"Well, they don't call it hell for nothing." Krys remarked.

"It's that a bit harsh? I mean, all I did was…kill a few people…ok, admittedly, that was bad, and in hindsight, I do regret it…well, most of it…but still. Eternal suffering sounds just a touch too extreme"

"Well, only the worst of the worst are sent there"

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," Hamlet replied sarcastically.

"Just telling you what I know. No need to get moody." Krys shrugged.

"How do you know so much about Hell, anyway?"

"Oh, it's basic animal guide knowledge."

"What, is there like a whole training day or something?" He asked, jokingly.

"Well, sort of. It's basically a briefing of all the animal souls stuck in purgatory before we're assigned our human charges."

"So, are there some animals who aren't stuck here?"

"Oh, yes, of course. The majority move straight on to the afterlife, usually heaven, occasionally hell, although that's quite rare. And then some of us are left here. The ones who weren't pure enough to pass straight on."

"So, what did you do to get stuck here?"

"I…er…I might of caused this huge fire…"

"A fire?"

"Well, I was there, minding my own business, when suddenly this huge pack of dogs started chasing after me, and so I ran and ran, and ended up in the city. But the dogs kept chasing, and the horses too, and then I ran into this open door way which turned out to be a candle makers shop. And as one of the faster dogs leapt to catch me, I may have accidentally knocked over an oil lamp, which started a fire that quickly spread through out the building…"

"That doesn't seem that bad – "

"And then it spread to the surround buildings and around that until most of the city was aflame. I hear thousands of people lost their homes…" Krys trailed off.

"…that's quite impressive for a fox." Hamlet remarked.

"I hear they were calling it the 'Great Fire of London'."

"No wonder they assigned you to me."

"It was an accident really, but, you know, _they_ didn't really listen. And so, here I am." Krys shrugged.

"Hey, what happens if I get sent to hell?"

"…you get sent to hell."

"No, I mean to you. What happens to you? Do you go to hell as well?"

"For an accidental fire? Of course not. I think I'd get reassigned or something. Or I get stuck here. They weren't too clear on that at the briefing."

"…there's kind of a significant difference there."

"I know. Let's just hope you complete the task and we don't have to find out."

"Right. Complete the task." Hamlet mused.

"Hey, look at that." Krys pointed to a lone wooden structure in the distance, "What do you suppose it is?"

"I have no idea. Let's find out, shall we?"

The pair had been walking for a while and finally the building was identifiable. It was a double story wooden building of some-sort. A sign sat above the door, reading "_The Living Crow_"

"Kind of ironic, don't you think?" Krys remarked as they reached the door.

"Hmm." Hamlet agreed, entering the establishment.

The smell of ale and dust were the first thing Hamlet recognised as he walked into the dimly lit room.

A grizzly man wiping a mug with a dirty towel nodded to him. Looking around, Hamlet was surprised to find that he had stepped into a bar.

"Wow, a pub in limbo. Who knew?" Krys shrugged, walking up to the bar and hopping onto a bar stool. Hamlet sat down next to him.

"What'll it be?" the barkeeper asked, putting down the mug.

"How 'bout a mug of you finest port, barkeep" said Krys.

The barkeeper stared at him.

"Ok…anything you've got will do." he replied sheepishly.

Hamlet nodded in agreement.

"Two ale's it is." the barkeeper responded, turning to get their drinks.

"So, what now?" Hamlet asked his animal guide.

"I dunno. I suppose we've got to track down some of these people on your list," Krys suggested. "Who do you want to see first? How about that girl – "

"No." he replied quickly.

"Look, I understand that it's gonna be hard dealing with her, but you have to eventually. Otherwise you'll be stuck here. And after several hundred years of hanging around in this dreary place, you'll be begging for Hell."

"I know," Hamlet replied, "I'll confront her eventually, just not now. I need time to think of what to say to her. Perhaps we should find someone a little more…forgiving."

"Fair enough. Who's the person you did the least to?"

Hamlet thought for a moment. "That would be…William. I owed him money while at University and never paid it back."

"How much did you owe?"

"Only a few hundred marks"

"_Only_ a few hundred?"

"I was a prince. That's not even pocket change."

"Then why did you need to borrow it?"

"It was a poker game and I'd already lost all the money I had on me. This was only supposed to be until I won it back…or I had the chance to repay him the next day. But by then I was called back to Denmark, and needless to say, I was too preoccupied to worry about debts."

"Well, that one really came back to bite you in the arse didn't it?"

Hamlet rolled his eyes.

The barkeeper came back with their drinks. "Enjoy." he grumbled.

Hamlet mumbled this thanks and took a sip. It was surprisingly good considering that they were in purgatory.

"So," Krys began, "What was that girl's name again? Opal? Orella? – "

"Ophelia. Stop talking about her." Hamlet dismissed.

"Why, I doubt she'd be too happy to hear you say that." Said a familiar voice.

Hamlet turned to his other side, finally recognising the man sitting next to him.

"Laertes?"

"Hamlet, my, hasn't it been a while…I think It's hard to tell down here." Laertes replied.

"…yes…I haven't seen you since…you died." Hamlet replied cautiously.

"Ah, yes, that fencing match. It was rather good wasn't it?" Laertes recalled fondly.

"Hi there," said a skunk to Krys.

"Hey. You this guy's guide?" Krys asked

"Yep. The tall one yours then?" she replied.

"You bet." Krys continued to chat to the skunk.

"Um, yes Laertes, about the fencing match, and the whole, killing you thing, you must understand, I never really intended for you to die. I was after Claudius. I only fought in self defence…and also because I was angry when I found out that you'd poisoned me." Hamlet tried to reason.

"Hamlet, I already told you before I died; I don't hold you to my death. I understand. We were both on missions of revenge and Claudius played me like a fool. You're not accountable for my death as long as you don't blame me for yours." Laertes replied.

"Of course I don't blame you…well, I did at first, but then I realised that it was all my uncle's doing, and yes, you could hardly be blamed."

"So we're both blameless." He established.

"…Great. What now?"

"Well, we could talk about something other than our deaths." Laertes offered.

"Sure. Why are you stuck here then?" Hamlet asked.

"Ah, well…back in my youth, I did a few things I'm not too proud of…" Laertes started.

Hamlet looked at him questioningly.

"Well, lets just say that I ran into some money troubles while at university and the only job I could find involved…um…working the streets…so to speak." he replied reluctantly.

"You were a whore?" asked Hamlet in disbelief.

"Well, I wouldn't call it that exactly – "

"He was a whore." confirmed the skunk.

Hamlet couldn't help but smile. "And because of that you're stuck here?"

"No, not for long. Since my 'infraction' isn't that bad, all I have to do is wait for the bell. He said I wouldn't have to wait that long. So I'm staying here until it rings." he replied, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"I still can't believe you were a whore – "

"It was only for a few weeks. Now can we please stop talking about it. Why are _you_ stuck here?" Laertes snapped.

"Oh, well, I'm stuck here because of all the…you know, killing I did. That and a few other minor infringements back at Wittenberg….but nothing remotely as interesting as your exploits." Laertes glared at him, "And so I'm stuck here until I can get everyone to forgive me for what I did to them."

"Everyone?"

"Yes. Well, there's one less person now, I guess, isn't there?"

"I'm not so sure I want to forgive you anymore." Laertes said stubbornly.

"What? You can't do that! You already said that you didn't hold me accountable. And I didn't really mean what I said. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with selling your body for money." Hamlet replied.

Laertes gave in. "Fine. I forgive you. But not one word of what I told you to anyone. Especially when we get to Heaven. And especially not to my father. He would kill me if he found out…if that is possible to kill someone already dead."

"That's an interesting thought. And so tell me Laertes did you cater exclusively for women or did you service men as well?" Hamlet teased.

"_Hamlet_." Laertes warned.

"Relax, I'm just teasing," He reassured, "You haven't happened to see anyone else down here that we know?"

"Like who?" Laertes asked, taking a big sip from his mug.

"Oh, I dunno, my mother, that murderous uncle of mine, your father, Rosey and Guliern, - "

"Ophelia" added Krys

"Yes, thank you Krys, I was getting to her," Hamlet muttered through his teeth. "Any of those people?"

"Well, I saw those two annoying friends of yours a while ago. Somewhere outside. I'm sure you'll run into them eventually. I haven't seen Ophelia or the others though, but your father _is_ sitting in that booth over there with the pirate." Laertes pointed into the corner.

Hamlet was startled. He didn't think he'd find his father here in purgatory. Not that he'd thought he would've moved on. He just hadn't thought about the possibility. He wasn't sure how to react.

"Ah, thanks Laertes." was all he could manage.

Suddenly, a faint ringing sounded across the room.

"Ah, that'll be me." Laertes cried happily. "So long Hamlet. I'll see you up there."

And Laertes began to fade until he was gone.

Hamlet was still looking at the spot where he had been just a few moments ago.

"I guess I know what to expect now." he said, breaking the silence.

"Well, he's gone. Did you manage to cross him off your list?" Krys asked.

Hamlet pulled out the scroll given to him by St John and watched as Laertes' name began to fade until it too was gone, leaving only the blank gap on the page.

"I guess that means I did." He replied.

"So, why don't we go and talk to your dad?" Krys suggested.

"I don't know…it's been a while…"

"Don't be silly. He's your dad. And isn't he the reason why you're in this mess? You _have_ to go talk to him. Don't worry, I'll be with you." Krys said, nudging him with his paw for support.

"Oh alright. We'll go and talk to my father."

* * *

**well, that was a long chapter wasn't it? good fun though. I thought you guys might like an update :D I'm feeling more inspired since i finished my english exam and said good bye to yr 12 english forever. Now the only time i wil have to write about Hamlet is in my fanfiction. It's alot more fun than analysing techniques, let me tell you. **

**well, that'll be it for a bit. Hopefully i'll get another update done before christmas. But it is true that reviews to encourage me to update faster, no lie. Infact, i only managed to write this one with the page showing my reviews in the background. Those kind words do wonders... :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Chapter 4, wherein there's a family reunion of sorts**

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Chapter 4

Hamlet slowly strolled over to his father's booth, his mind racing through all the possible things to say to him. It was the most bizarre situation he could remember being in…well, at least since he'd died.

Krys yawned as he followed his charge across the pub. Personally, he didn't see the big deal about it all. It was only his father. It's not like the boy was being asked to answer a complicated algebraic equation…that was written in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. Krys shook his head. Humans always overcomplicated _everything_.

Hamlet stood for a moment at the table, watching as his father conversed with the grizzly looking sea-farer.

"…arr, indeed it seems even royalty cannot escape the bounds of ye wimin folk. Thems caused me more trouble then they worth, they 'ave. But I've never been able to say nay to a lovely lass, if ye knows what I mean," the Pirate remarked, taking a deep sip from his mug.

"Indeed, Captain Greybeard, I know exactly what you mean. The things we do for women," Hamlet Snr replied nostalgically. He reached for his mug when, he noticed the young man standing at the table.

"Hamlet, ma' boy, is it really you?" he asked.

"Yes father, it is I," the ex-prince replied.

"What the devil are you doing here?"

"I…I'm stuck here, father. But what are you doing here?" Hamlet asked

The dead king sighed. "I'm afraid I'm stuck too. But tell me boy, you're not here because of me, are you?"

Hamlet looked away, "Well, actually…"

"Yeah, it's basically your fault," Krys answered for him.

"Oh no, that's terrible," the old King replied.

"King Hamlet, be this young lad that boy you've been telling me about?" the Pirate asked.

"Indeed he is. Captain, this is my son, Hamlet junior. Son, this is Marville Greybeard." he introduced, "He was one of the fiercest pirates in the Caribbean seas back in his day."

"Aye, there be nary a soul who could catch me when I captained me pride and joy, the Shrieking Siren. Not until I be taken down by a Kraken, the bloomin' beast." Captain Greybeard replied

"…nice to meet you, sir," Hamlet nodded.

Krys jumped onto the back of the booth to see a bobcat, curled up and sleepily listening to her charges' conversation.

"Hey there," Krys greeted. He was loving meeting all these new people.

The bobcat yawned, "Hi. So you're his son's guide, eh? Great." she said without much enthusiasm.

"I'm name's Krys," replied the fox

"They call me Maa. And that's Jingo, the Captain's guide," the bobcat lazily pointed to the marmoset who was perched on the pirates shoulder.

"So why exactly are you here, son, on what charges? The captain's here because of all the pillaging and general marauding he did." Hamlet Snr explained.

"Aye, I can't leave until they tell me. I've been here for so long, it feels like an eternity. It be pretty boring until yer pa came along. We've been talking like old sea dogs for a while now." the Captain confirmed.

"Well, I'm here because…well, um…ok, after you told me to avenge you…I came up with this brilliant plan to kill Claudius, but I guess I got uncertain and decided to try and get evidence first…but to keep it short, I basically ended up causing the deaths of many more people that I intended…including Mother…" Hamlet replied sheepishly.

The old king shook his head sadly. "Ah, it's all my fault."

"What do you mean? _I_ did those things. If only I hadn't been so – "

"No, you're not to blame. I wasn't supposed to come back and tell you to avenge me. That's why I'm still here. I broke the rules. I had no right to ask you to do such a thing. And now, we're both stuck in this pit." King Hamlet replied, "I'm sorry son. I should never have involved you in all of this."

Young Hamlet could barely believe his ears. "…well, it's not completely your fault. Even if you hadn't come to me, I probably would've tried to get rid of my uncle anyway."

"No son. It's my fault. It not in your nature to do such things unprovoked. I doubt you would've even sworn at Claudius if I had not come to you. You were such a sweet boy. But my selfishness got in the way, and now you're being treated like a murderer." the King sighed dramatically.

Hamlet was speechless. He didn't know what to think. "Are you saying I'm too weak to do anything of my own accord?"

The old king looked confused. "…not at all Hamlet, but, seriously, are you saying you want to be held fully accountable for these crimes? I think you may be missing the point here…"

"Well, it's just…I don't get it father. You were murdered, by your own brother, might I add, who then took your throne and made a whore of your wife, my _mother_, and you're saying you wish I hadn't gone after him? That I hadn't tried to correct the terrible wrongs committed in your own house?"

The King shook his head. "No, boy, even though you broke the rules, I believe what you did, did in some way, act as punishment for my foolish brother, but you have to look as the other casualties. And I know who they are, they've all come through here at one stage or another. Yes, your mother, my old advisor Polonius, those two friends of yours from Wittenberg, and Ophelia, dear dear Ophelia. You know your mother and I had hoped you might marry her some day, but now you're both dead. And all in my name. You don't know how heavily this weighs on my conscious."

"…but – "

"I know, son, despite all this, of course I'm glad you did your best to try and avenge me. It was very kind of you, and I'd expect nothing less from so fine a young man. I just wish that I hadn't asked you to commit such terrible acts, for now, both our souls are marked to wander these dreary fields while we wait for salvation."

Hamlet was speechless once again.

"Aye, that be a tragic tale ye have there," remarked the Captain

Maa yawned again. "I tried to warn him against going back, but he was so hot-blooded and damn determined."

"What's he have to do to move on?" Krys asked

"Make it up to his son." she replied.

"…you have to make all this up to me and then you get to move on?" Hamlet asked his father.

"Yes, although I personally think it's too lenient, considering all the trouble I caused. I was such an angry man in my day. But sitting here talking to the Captain has made me realise how pointless it all was. All I wish for now is your forgiveness and a peaceful afterlife," The King sighed again. Hamlet could see the weariness in hie eyes.

"Well, _I_ can't leave until I get the forgiveness of everyone on my list; all the '_people whom I have wronged'_, as St John so eloquently put it." Hamlet explained.

"Really? Is that a lot of people?"

"Well…it's one less since Laertes forgave me." he replied, trying to sound hopeful.

"Oh Hamlet, I can't help but feel even more guilty after all this. I _deserve_ to stay here for all eternity." the old King remarked sorrowfully.

"Well, technically you'd go to hell eventually. They won't let you stay forever," reminded Maa

"Father, this is stupid. Even though you came back and sparked the events which lead to my downfall, and that of almost everyone else in the court, it's not really your fault. I don't blame you." Hamlet explained, "You were murdered by your own brother. It's Claudius who should feel guilty. If he hadn't been so ambitious, none this would've happened, you would have been alive long enough to retire, I would've taken the throne…"

"And then be succeeded by your's and Ophelia's children." added Krys

"Yes, _thank you_ for reminding me," he snapped

"I don't see why it's such a touchy subject." Krys rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, if Claudius hadn't done what he did, we wouldn't be in this mess." Hamlet concluded.

"…so I'm forgiven?" King Hamlet was in disbelief

"Of course, I never really held you accountable." Hamlet shrugged.

"My son, I did _not_ deserve such a wonderful, merciful young man for a son," cried the King, tears welling in his eyes. He pulled Hamlet into a tight hug.

Startled, it was all Hamlet could do to keep breathing in the vice-like grip of his father.

"...tha…nk…you…fa…the..r" he managed to choke out.

The old king released him. "You can't imagine what you have done for me, my son. Now I can move on. I wish you luck in your mission, and I'd better see you up there soon," he called, beginning to fade away.

"Fare thee well King Hamlet," nodded Captain Greybeard

"So long my drinking companion. I want to see all of you up there for a reunion later. So long my friends, so long…" and with those final words, the old King and Maa faded until they were gone.

After a while of silence, Krys interjected, "I thought you said your father was a fearful and proud king and battle-hardened warrior?"

"…I guess purgatory made him…soft…" Hamlet replied, speechless over what had just happened. "My father just hugged me. Sure, he wasn't a _bad_ father, but he hasn't done that since I was twelve."

"He spoke of ye most dearly," the Captain replied, "I do hope to see him again one day,"

"Well wasn't that a good idea to come over here? Don't I have great ideas? You should listen to me more often," replied Krys

Hamlet ignored him. "What's going to happen to you, Captain?"

"Aye, I be staying here until I'm called. Don't ye worry about me, ye should go off and do what ye can to leave this place. Ye are blessed with an active task, after all, why waste time?"

Hamlet nodded. "Ok, we shall go then. Thank you for your company for my father. I'm sure it meant a lot to him. And it was very nice to meet you,"

"Nice to meet ye too lad, now off you go. I'd hate to still see ye here by the time I get to leave,"

Nodding once more, Hamlet turned back to the barkeeper to ask for some help.

"Ok, Mr. Barkeeper, I suppose you must see everyone who comes in to this bar, so I was wondering if you could be of some assistance."

The barkeeper put down the mug he was drying and looked him directly in the eye. "Many people come through here, boy, I don't know if I'd be of much help." he grunted.

"Well, any assistance you can offer would be incredibly helpful. I'm looking for…a lot of people really. Um…have you seen a woman, about average height, old –"

"She might not be as old now as she was. She could be younger, like you, remember?" Krys interjected.

"Good point. Now you mention it, father did look at least a bit younger than I remembered. Ok, she's of…an undetermined age…but she…this isn't really helping is it?" Hamlet sighed.

"That could be any number of people, so no, it's not. But you could always try the Garden." the barkeeper replied

"Garden? There's a garden in purgatory?" Hamlet asked

"Yes, the Garden of Illusion."

"Why is it called – "

"You'll know when you see it." the barkeeper said quickly, as if it was a question he was asked far too often for his liking.

"Where's this garden?" Krys asked

The barkeeper put down the cloth, "Follow me," he said, before opening up the door to the bar and coming out. Hamlet and Krys stared in amazement at his torso.

"What you staring at?" the barkeeper asked gruffly.

Krys was the first to speak, "You – you're a – "

"Yes, I'm a centaur. Now stop wasting time, and follow me." he snapped, mumbling something along the lines of '_damn annoying fools…you'd think they've never seen a centaur before_…'

The barkeeper clopped out the door, and Hamlet and Krys managed to recollect themselves and follow him out.

Outside, a mysterious wind blew, hitting Hamlet and Krys with a strange force that was neither hot nor cold.

"The Garden is about a hundred paces that way." the barkeeper said, pointing out into the wilderness.

"Ok then, thank you for your help barkeeper," Hamlet told him

Krys eyed the centaur for a moment. The barkeeper returned his glare. Krys winced. "Come on Hammy, let's go," he said before bounding off into the desert.

Hamlet nodded his thanks once more before heading off after his animal guide.

* * *

**_For the record, i know for a fact that Hamlet's dad was actully called Hamlet too. Just incase you were wondering._**

**_Yep, i've updated. :D Big thanks to my reviewers: crazed-ink-slinger, Zallah, Lugnutz, and of course, xxcallmecrazyxx. You guys are awesome :D digital cookies for you all...or cookie dough icecream instead, if thats what you prefer._**

**_well, keep sending in those reviews, and i'll keep writing, how 'bout that?_**

**_Until next time...^_^_**


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